One part of me bemoans the many wrong decisions I made in life. Yet another part pushes me on. Someone once said this to me. What doesn't breaks you makes you. But some days in life, you find yourself lying on a field. Look up upon the sky, the stars, and the moon. Your heart, your eyes gaze in awe at God's wondrous creations. And you whisper a silent prayer. You cry out to be broken.
I wish I could be happy like them. I wish all this was a bad dream. I want to wake up, badly. But the truth is ugly. And realitiy is cruel. My final last attempt probably ended up undisclosed, buried under a pile of thrash where it lies cold and lonely.
Emptiness fills up you heart. It threatens to overflow.
Yet, it is but only empty.
Sometimes, you ask: "God, what's your problem?"
But each time, the reply was silent; non-existent.
You look on, as the days ahead form the invisible bars that build your prison.
posted by cigarettelove @ 6:17 AM
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